Quinn would have rather been elbow deep in a patient’s blocked colon than planning her funeral…er…bear-version of coming out party. Her mother sat in a plush chair in the corner of the makeup parlor, and yes, Quinn was embarrassed to say, her family home had a freaking makeup parlor.

“Don’t squint your eyes, dear,” her mother chided. In the old days, before smart phones, her mother might have been doing needlepoint or a crossword, but now, she gripped her phone tight while her fingers flew over the screen crushing sweet confections with every tap. “No man wants a woman who squints. It makes you look like a shrew.”

Good, Quinn thought but didn’t say. Maybe her shrew status might make the clan change its stupid rules. Her mother, Melody Orson, had other plans. She’d hired a beautician, a makeup artist, and a stylist to make Quinn ready to snag a dude.

“Do I have to do this now? It’s not like my hair or this shellac,” she indicated the thick rouge on her cheeks, “are going to survive until then.”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly, Quinn Ann Rachel Orson.” When her used her full name, it meant she was getting agitated. “But we need you to be at your best. Don’t you want to attract a good match?”

“Isn’t that why I went to Gerri Wilder?”

“Of course. But that doesn’t negate the purpose of this party.” To the stylist, Melody said, “Is there any way to cinch the waist tighter. Really show off Quinn’s assets.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should just jump naked into a vat of honey, and whichever bear shifter drinks enough to fetch me out wins.”

Her mother nodded, seeming to contemplate the idea.

“No,” Quinn said. “I was kidding, Mom.”

“You naked in honey has its possibilities,” Melody said.

“It certainly does,” a man said from just outside the parlor door.

Quinn recognized the voice immediately. She wanted to take a washcloth to her painted face and run screaming from the room. Luke Dashwood. Oh boy. She hadn’t seen him since the ER, and she’d been too afraid to ask Marigold about him. She knew the Bennet sister hoped that Quinn would choose her brother as a mate. She didn’t want to complicate Brandon’s recovery by fighting with his sister.

“That’s a pretty dress,” Luke said, his eyes scanning her from top to bottom.

Quinn wore a gold off-the-shoulder A-line dress that hugged her bosom and her ass a little too much. She also didn’t like the fact that her middle stuck out a bit.

Oh, what she wouldn’t have given for a pair of Spanx!

She tried to look coy but was certain it came off more constipated. “Thanks.”

Her mother stood up. “I’m Melody Orson,” she said extending her hand. “Who are you?”

“I’m Luke Dashwood, owner of Dashwood Security.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” Melody said, her tone flat and disapproving.

“I’m okay with that,” Luke said.

Quinn smiled at the response then covered her mouth to hide it. Luke’s bright blue eyes captured her. His predatory gaze made her stomach dip. Quinn glanced quickly at her mother, whose mouth was set in a thin, grim line.

Quinn blinked, cleared her throat, and turned her attention back to the tall, blond, god of a man. Damn, he was a sexy beast. She put her professional voice on. The one she used with patients. Kind, but distant. “Can I help you, Mr. Dashwood?”

Luke stepped into the room, ducking as he passed through the door. “I’d like to go over the itinerary for Saturday, so I will be able to better protect you and your family.”

As he crossed the room to her, an electronic pad in hand, Quinn’s legs became two gelatinous columns. She stepped down from the dressing stand before she fell down. “Let me change.” Her voice was tight and little higher than normal. “I’ll be right with you.” Anything to get out of this circus act of a room, she thought. Her desire to go with Luke Dashwood had nothing to do with her desire for him. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

She took one last look in the mirror and groaned at the heavy application. Though, the shaping of her eyebrows did look good. Even so, she grabbed a makeup wipe and gave her face a quick scrub.

Luke waited patiently, his face carefully neutral. Of course, a man like him wouldn’t be interested in someone like her. Then she remembered. Crap, he was with Marigold, and here Quinn was, practically falling all over herself like a fool.

She grabbed her skirt and blouse from a chair. “I’ll be right back.” And fled down the hall to her bedroom.